‘You will rest a bit, Juliana, then we will talk. I would suggest that you remain in this cabin. My men, as you can well imagine, are not always polite gentlemen.’
He strode to the cabin door, looking over his shoulder at her before he left. She hadn’t moved. He frowned. Then he heard the soft, broken sound of her sobbing, and was relieved.
Excellent, he thought as he left the cabin. She’s resilient. She would have to be. He had two weeks to bring her around before they arrived in San Francisco. He wondered, eyes lighting with greed, how much money she would bring him. Then he felt the burning pain in his belly, It came more frequently now, particularly if he were angry or upset, or filled with anticipation, as he was now. He walked from the cabin, kneading his belly and forcing his mind away from the biting pain.
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2
San Francisco, California, 1854
‘Come on, now, Willie, I’m not cutting your arm off, for God’s sake! Stop your bellowing!’ ‘It hurts, Saint, bloody bad.’
Saint stared down at the newly stitched gash on Limpin’Willie’s arm. Good job, he congratulated himself. He picked up a bottle, saw Willie pale with fear, and began to talk. ‘Did I ever tell you about this stuff, Willie? No? Well, it’s called iodine, and it’s better than whiskey for what ails you. And cheaper. Yes, indeed, it was discovered way back in 1811 by a chap named Courtois, but there’s controversy even about that, of course.’ Saint held Willie’s arm over a basin and poured the iodine on the wound. Willie yelped and struggled, but Saint had three times his strength and wasn’t about to ease his hold.
Saint continued calmly holding Willie’s arm in an iron grip while he patted off the excess liquid. ‘Do you know what ‘iodine’ means, Willie? No? Well, part of it comes from the Greek word ion and it means ‘violet.’ just look at your arm, as violet as can be. Now,
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you’ve come out of this not only patched up but educated as well.’
Limpin’ Willie had got his breath and bearings back. He stared down at his purple arm. ‘Violet, huh, Saint?’
‘The ladies will think you look like a bloomin’ flower, Willie.’
Limpin’ Willie gave him a crooked grin, showing the inside of a mouth that contained only half its complement of teeth. ‘It still hurts like hell, Saint, but I’ll live. Thanks, I owe you one.’
‘Actually, you owe me five. Dollars, that is. The rest, I’ll take in a favor down the road.’ ‘Anything, anytime, Saint.’Willie paid his money and prepared to leave.
‘Keep that bandage clean, Willie. And no picking pockets or bashing folk around for a while. And don’t let the wound get dirty. Come back to see me in three days.’
Willie took his leave and Saint stood silently for a moment in the doorway, shaking his head ruefully. Limpin’Willie was a Sydney Duck – one of that group of men from Australia who were criminals to their toes. But he was harmless as a puppy around Saint. At least Willie had had brains enough to come to him immediately. He shuddered to think what would have happened to that wound had Willie waited even a couple of
17
days. He briefly imagined a one-armed pickpocket, and chuckled grimly.
He left his small house on Clay Street and made his way to Montgomery Street to the Saxton, Brewer and Company bank. Delaney Saxton was in conversation with one of his clerks, and broke off when he saw Saint.
‘You’ve saved me, Saint,’ he called out. ‘Old Jarvis here is trying to talk me into something mighty suspicious.’
‘Send Jarvis to see Limpin’Willie. The poor fellow’s out of commission for a while, a gash in his arm probably gained while he was trying to rob somebody. It’ll do him good to use his brain for a change.’
‘Patched him up, did you?’ Del asked. ‘I think the Sydney Ducks would elect you mayor if you wanted it. Lord knows there’s enough of them, and all of them in your debt, right?’
‘Banking and doctoring, we both collect debts, don’t we, Del? How’s Chauncey?’